Ghouls Gone Wild (23 page)

Heath and I got up and thanked her for the tea and the cookies. She ushered us out, giving her apologies for not being able to talk with us further, and suggested we find the living Witch of Queen’s Close to get a better history and gave us very hurried directions on how to get to Joseph’s house from her cottage.

We stepped out onto her front steps and she gave us one last farewell, before shutting the door in our faces.

Heath and I turned and walked down the steps. “That was . . . interesting,” he said.

“I was leaning more toward odd.”

Heath smiled and looked at me sideways. “I’ll lean with you,” he said, and physically leaned into me, bumping me with his good shoulder.

I started to laugh but caught myself when I looked up at him and found myself very attracted to that handsome face, even with the one swollen eye and scratched face. “What?” he asked, probably noticing how I’d caught myself.

“Huh? Um . . . nothing.”

“You okay?”

“Sure!” I said a little too enthusiastically.

Heath laughed. “Well, you’ve been a little off the past couple of days.”

I immediately became self-conscious. “Off? How have I been off?”

We were walking down toward the van, where Gil and Gopher were waiting for us with the engine idling. “I don’t know,” Heath said. “Every once in a while you look at me funny. And when I touch you or brush against you, you stiffen. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you thought I was repulsive.”

I attempted a laugh.

And failed miserably.

What came out was some sort of high-pitched impersonation of a hyena. “Don’t be ridiculous!” I insisted, scrambling to turn the whole awful conversation into a joke. Waving my hand dramatically in a circle around his head and attempting a highbrow accent, I said, “You’re gorgeous, dahling, simply marvelous-looking!”

“Especially with the shiner and the arm in a sling, right?” Heath said, turning his eyes to the ground.

And I realized that he must feel really self-conscious himself about his appearance, so I stopped and caught him by the shoulder. “Dude,” I said seriously, “you really
are
hot, okay? Like . . . unfairly gorgeous. There are men who must hate you, and women I’ve seen firsthand practically swoon when you walk by.”

Heath’s mouth broke into a terrific grin. “And you’d totally be into me if it weren’t for Steven, right?”

I couldn’t help it; I blushed. I could feel the immediate searing heat hit my cheeks, and a cool sweat broke out across my brow. I darted my own eyes to the ground and hurried my pace. “Yeah,” I said. “Right. Steven’s my guy. My boyfriend. The man. My S.O. . . .”

Mercifully I reached the van at that point and had to stop talking. Gilley opened the door for me and I hustled into the backseat, forcing Heath to take the front. The moment I began to fasten my seat belt, however, my best friend blew any remaining cover by saying, “Jeez, M. J.! What’s up with you? You’re totally flushed. Are you all hot and bothered?”

I glared coldly at him and he immediately shut up, but his eyes also swiveled to Heath, who was also strapping himself in, and I saw a bit of understanding blossom in Gil’s eyes. He opened his mouth wide and slapped a hand over his mouth and looked ready to squeal with delight.

I shook my head vigorously and mouthed, “NO!” at him, but his eyes were all big and his expression was absolutely giddy.

After a moment, he mouthed back, “You and Heath?”

“Shut up!” I mouthed back.

Gilley broke out into a fit of giggles.

“What’s he laughing about?” Gopher asked.

“Nothing!” I said, punching Gil hard in the arm right before Gopher and Heath looked back at us. “I just hit his funny bone accidentally.” Gilley continued to laugh and roll around in the backseat. I wanted to smack him. “Can we just go?” I snapped.

Gopher looked once more at Gil before he shrugged. “Sure, M. J. Where to?”

I recalled Bonnie’s directions, discreetly hit Gil in the arm again, then pointed to a nearby intersection. “That way.”

We arrived at Joseph’s place about ten minutes and two wrong turns later. We could tell it was his house by the number of flowers on his front doorstep. It seemed that people in the neighborhood had heard the news and were stopping by to pay their respects through small bouquets laid on his welcome mat.

Gopher pulled to a stop at the front door and we all just stared at those flowers. Gilley had finally recovered himself, and he was the first to speak. “Well, that’s just really, really sad.”

I sighed. “It is.”

“Are you sensing him, M. J.?” Heath asked me.

I looked away from the flowers and stared up at the house, opening up my sixth sense as wide as I could. “No,” I said finally. “I’m not.”

“Let’s get out and take a look around the house before we go in search of the woman who rents his cottage,” Heath suggested.

I knew what he was getting at. Suicides were tough cookies. They routinely refused to cross over, and they were also the hardest energies to get to communicate. I think it has to do with the amount of shame they feel for taking their own lives. It’s as if they can’t bear the thought of what they’ve done, so they shut down and try to hide from both worlds—the living and the dead. It can take years to convince them to cross over where they’ll get some spiritual help and recover from the guilt.

And even though I believed that Rigella had somehow convinced Joseph to take his own life, I knew that the moment he realized he was dead, he’d be facing one huge guilt complex.

We all got out and unloaded several magnetic grenades from the trunk. I strapped mine into the tool belt Meg had purchased for me, as did Heath, Gilley, and Gopher. Gil also tugged on his magnetic sweatshirt, which he told us he’d spent the previous day “improving.” The garment sagged weirdly on him, and I figured that might be due to the fact that he’d loaded on a few pounds’ worth of extra magnets.

Heath unzipped a duffel bag and pulled out two electrostatic meters—the only two left after the fire besides the ones we’d left in the close. He handed one to Gil and the other to Gopher. “Wouldn’t one of you need this?” Gopher asked him.

Heath tapped his temple and smiled. “We’re good,” he said. “I’ve got my internal meter turned up high.”

I nodded. “Me too.”

Once we were adequately armed, we set off. I was in the lead and kept us close to the house, which was a two-story gray stucco structure with a beautiful mahogany door and black shutters. A flower box near the window held the withered remains of some old blooms, and leaves had collected around the bushes, but otherwise the house was quite charming.

“Do you want to ring the bell?” Gilley asked.

“No one’s home,” Heath and I said together. I looked at him, surprised that we kept saying things in unison, and he added, “We’ve got to stop doing that.”

I could feel the heat begin to creep back to my cheeks, so I hurried along and tried to distract myself. “Let’s check the back,” I suggested.

We rounded the corner of the house and came up short. From the road the house appeared to sit on a small parcel of property, as it was close to the street with only a small front yard.

The back was an utter surprise.

Huge trees lined an enormous yard that stretched down a low sloping hill for several hundred yards. Near a pond at the bottom of the hill was a small guesthouse, which mirrored the structure behind us except for being about one-quarter of the size. Far beyond the guesthouse and the pond, however, and up another sloping hill was the thing that really took my breath away.

“Whoa,” said Gopher.

“Holy cow,” said Gil.

“No way,” said Heath.

“Way,” I said. “And, on that note, Heath, your grandfather rules!”

We were all staring at the remnants of an ancient castle, weathered and crumbling but still with enormous appeal. It proudly perched itself at the far end of the lawn about a half mile away, and I knew it must be part of Joseph’s parcel because the green pattern of the freshly mowed yard indicated that it was one contiguous piece of property. There was also little doubt that the castle represented the very ruins Samuel Whitefeather had suggested we should look for.

“Which one should we check out first?” Gil asked, completely forgetting about our first priority to find Joseph’s ghost.

“Hold the phone,” I said, and motioned to Heath to survey the rest of the back of the house, hoping for any sign of the man who’d died the day before. After ten minutes I shrugged. “He’s not here.”

“Nope,” Heath agreed. “Let’s hit the guesthouse.” Heath spoke in a way that suggested he had a strong intuitive feeling.

Gopher and Gilley turned to me. “I’m with him,” I said. “Let’s go talk to the current Witch of Queen’s Close and see if she’s been playing with fire.”

I immediately regretted my choice of words when Gilley blanched, and yelled, “My fire extinguisher!” He then dashed back to the van to retrieve it.

We waited for him to get back and my heart went out to him when I saw how firmly he was gripping it. Without another word, I led us down the path to the small house with a plume of smoke snaking its way from the chimney.

 

 

 

We got another surprise the moment we stepped onto the porch of the guesthouse. It made both Heath and me jump and immediately reach for our grenades. I uncapped one as fast as I could and threw the metal spike toward the offending object staring us in the face . . . and nothing happened.

Well, nothing except there was a delighted giggle from inside the house right before the door opened. “Now, what did that poor defenseless broom ever do to you? I wonder,” said a tall woman with long silver hair and beautiful green eyes from the doorway.

My heart was hammering hard while my gaze swiveled from the woman in the doorway to the big black broom in the corner, which was identical to the three that had chased and beaten Heath and me the day before. “Where did
that
come from?” I barked, pointing to the broom. I wasn’t trying to be rude, but in light of the circumstances, I felt I was owed a few answers.

“I made it with me own hands,” said the woman as she placed those hands on her slender hips. “It’s an exact replica of the sort the famous Witch of Queen’s Close used to carry through the village. It was a way of embracing her title as the village witch,” she said. “It was also a way of showing off how powerful a figure she was. To carry a broom about in those days took true courage as accusations of heresy were quite common. Many poor souls were hanged for much less in fact. But the Witch of Queen’s Close wasn’t afraid. She was a powerful lass, and no one dared challenge her, that is, until the plague struck the village in sixteen forty-five.”

“She a friend of yours, this famous witch?” I practically growled, convinced that we’d just found the very person who had in fact called up Rigella’s ghost.

“Not especially,” said the woman, evasively. “But I hold her in the highest respect, and after seeing her about these parts the last few nights, I thought it best to place the broom on the porch out of reverence.”

There was a long awkward silence that followed as those green eyes just stared at me in challenge. I didn’t know what to say next, so I glared back, trying hard not to blink.

Finally the woman said, “Sir, would you mind not pointing that directly at me? You’re rattling me nerves.”

My eyes swiveled to Gilley, who was standing right next to me holding his fire extinguisher chest-high while aiming the nozzle at the woman. With his wild eyes he looked like a frightened little kid, on the verge of shouting, “Stranger-danger!”

I placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered, “It’s okay, Gil. Let’s give her a chance before we jump to conclusions.”

Gilley lowered the extinguisher but kept his eyes fully trained on the woman. She surprised all of us when she stepped forward suddenly, causing all four of us to leap back. Belatedly we noticed that she had her hand extended and a smile on her face. “I’m Katherine McKay,” she said.

No one moved to take her hand. Instead we all just looked at it uncertainly. This made Katherine laugh, and she finally pulled her hand back to cross her arms over her chest. “For ghost hunters you’re a bit squeamish, aren’t you?”

“Are you a witch?” Gil asked.

“Aye,” she said. “I am. But I’m not the sort that’ll harm the likes of you, so why don’t you come in for a bit of tea and talk?”

I looked uncertainly at Heath. He gave an almost imperceptible nod and said, “That would be very nice. Thank you.”

We followed Katherine into her home and I was surprised by the spaciousness of its interior. From the outside it looked much smaller than it actually was. The door we walked through led into a beautifully furnished living room with two love seats and matching wing chairs upholstered in cool celery green and pale yellow with a bit of light pink for accent. There was a fire in the hearth that filled the room with cozy heat, and fresh flowers on two of the nearby tables. The whole house smelled of antiques, sandalwood, and fresh flowers. It was a lovely combination.